Pieces
by BlackShaftedArrow
Summary: A re-telling about when Faramir tells Denethor about him letting Frodo go with the Ring from the Return of the King extended edition.


** DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Lord of the Rings; all rights to J.R.R. Tolkien!**

"This is how you would serve your city? You would risk its utter ruin?" Denethor spoke the words viciously, making sure the young man standing before him understood the meaning of what he was telling him.

Faramir swallowed nervously, not wanting to anger his father. "I did what I judged to be right."

"What you judged to be right!" Denethor snapped. Faramir flinched. "You sent the Ring of Power into Mordor in the hands of a witless Halfling! It should have been brought back to the citadel to be kept safe. Hidden. Dark and deep in the vaults…not to be used."

The man glanced around the white, stone walls of his father's throne room. Faramir knew this wasn't true. He knew that his father would have grasped greedily upon the Thing and used it to gain complete control over Gondor. But he remained silent.

Denethor continued. "Unless, at the uttermost end of need."

_Our need is now._ Faramir thought, judging it best not to voice his thoughts. "I would not use the Ring." He said quietly, hoping to make his father understand that the Ring was pure evil and could not be used for any goodwill. "Not if Minas Tirith were falling in ruin and I alone could save her."

"Ever you desire to appear lordly and gracious as a King of old. Boromir would have remembered his father's need. He would have brought me a kingly gift."

The man's lips parted, but he said nothing. His father's words stung like a whip. Oh how often he wished his brother could be here with him, but Boromir had died several months ago. Faramir knew there was no use in wishing for him to be there to help him, but he couldn't help but hope. Often times, Denethor would forget that Faramir missed his older brother just as much as he did himself, and his words proved the fact.

Faramir felt no jealousy of his brother. He knew that, no matter how hard he tried, he would never be like him. And his father hated him for that. Boromir was always Denethor's favorite, and, as long as he was around, the old man would seem to forget to mock his younger son and show him disdain. The younger brother was grateful for that, not wanting to face his father's wrath. But now that Boromir had passed on, the strength of Denethor's anger and hatred towards him burned ever the brighter.

"Boromir would not have brought the Ring." He said, finally replying to his father's words. "He would have stretched out his hand to this thing and taking it he would have fallen." His voice was thick with emotion. It hurt him to say the words, but he knew them to be truth.

Denethor's barely pent-up anger exploded. "You know nothing of this matter!"

Faramir continued, fighting back the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. "He would have kept it for his own. And when he returned you would not have known your son."

It was arguments like this that really tore at Faramir's heart. Often, he wasn't the one doing the yelling, it was Denethor. But just the words and the reminder of his older brother brought tears to his eyes.

"Boromir was loyal to me! Not some wizard's pupil!" Denethor screamed, leaping from his seat in the steward's chair and lunging forward at Faramir. The younger man took an involuntary step backward.  
>His father stood there for a second before stepping backwards shakily. He collapsed on the little dais that held his seat of honor. The older man began to draw in shaky breaths and Faramir heard an almost inaudible sob escape his father. Immediately, the argument was forgotten and Faramir felt concern for him.<p>

"Father?" He whispered, taking a step forward, planning on coming to Denethor's aid. Then he stopped himself, remembering how much his father hated him and figuring that his help would just be pushed away, only furthering the mental torment the man was in. He remained where he was and watched as his father glanced upwards at him. He could see tear streaks on his father's face.

"My son!" Overwhelming joy shone in Denethor's eyes, and he held out both hands, as if ready to embrace him. Faramir stayed where he was, but words could not describe the happiness he was feeling. A small, relieved smile tugged at his lips, but he quickly rearranged his features to one of indifference. Being a trained soldier, he knew the importance of keeping a straight face in the steward's presence. Besides, he knew his father never allowed his sons to show any emotion. His heart felt like it was finally being glued back together, and he thought his father had finally recognized his son for who he was, not for what he wasn't. Faramir waited for his father to say more, to apologize to him for all the hateful things he had said to him, and embrace him, tears streaming down both of their faces. But it was not to be.

Suddenly, Denethor's attitude changed to one of horror, then confusion, then, finally, that awful hatred Faramir had come to know so well. Faramir could only guess that his father had been remembering Boromir, maybe even having a hallucination of him standing there.

"Leave me." Denethor spat the two words at him like he was a lowly insect.

Faramir's face fell visibly and the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes began to spill over onto his face. Then, he ducked his head and left his father's hall. As he slipped out the door, he let the tears freely fall down his cheeks, not making any move to wipe them away. It seemed as if Faramir would have to pick up the pieces of his shattered life on his own.

**Did you all like it? I hope you did. Just writing this scene nearly brought me to tears. Poor Faramir…Anyways, please review! Oh, and a song that goes really well with Faramir is 'Pieces' by Red. Please check it out!**

_**Arrow :D**_


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